


A Song of Mists and Metals

by BrannonofBrightmarch



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Mistborn - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Action/Adventure, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/M, Gen, Intrigue, Lost in a new world, Sandersonian Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 16:09:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2235216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrannonofBrightmarch/pseuds/BrannonofBrightmarch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was lost. Lost in this world of snow and green plants. Lost without the Mists.<br/>At least Elend and Sazed were with her.<br/>Because living here required strategy, and restraint to not just go around stabbing everyone.</p><p>After the events of the Final Empire, Vin, Elend, and Sazed appear during the events of A Game of Thrones. Only one thing is for certain, and that is that the Game has new players. A philosopher king, a scholarly former slave, and a God-Slaying assassin.<br/>May Preservation have mercy on them all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Vin

**Author's Note:**

> I've been writing ASOIAF fanfic on a couple of other sites for a while now, but I'm kind new to Ao3. I came to the conclusion that "We need more Mistborn fanfic, dammit" and thus, this story was created. Hope you enjoy.
> 
> *Note, this story takes place right before the beginning of Well of Ascension, before Sazed left Luthadel and Elend proposed to Vin.*

Vin

The small flakes fluttered down, like little motes of soft white ash. Snow was somewhat uncommon in the Final Empire, even in winter, at least it was in the Central Dominance. Vin watched the snow fall lazily down through the trees. That was what caught her attention next. Forests like this were even more rare, with the timber they provided being a jealously guarded resource. These trees were tall, taller than any she had seen, and standing densely enough together that she could hardly see the sky. But that wasn’t what caught her attention.

No, what caught her attention was the trees’ leaves. They were long and thin, almost like tiny needles, rather than the broad, flat leaves of the trees found in the Central Dominance. But even that was inconsequential in comparison to what else distinguished them. _They were green_. Vin took a cautious step forward, as if the trees and their leaves were an illusion that might vanish if she got too close. They remained. She plucked a cluster of them from one of the nearest branches. They pricked her fingers slightly. Sharp. Sharp and green. What in the Lord Ruler’s name?

She heard a gasp, and a quiet murmur from behind her. “Fascinating”, she heard Sazed say as she turned around to look at him. The tall, wiry, dark skinned Terrisman was studying a similar set of needle-like leaves intently. His brows were furrowed in concentration. “My metalminds tell me that the trees in the Eastern Dominance have needles like this, though those aren’t nearly so tall.”

Behind Sazed, Vin heard a chuckle. “Or as green, I would assume?” Elend Venture said as he  stepped out from behind the taller man. Elend wore his characteristically loose, comfortable nobleman’s suit, his hair shaggy and disheveled. “As far as I know, green plants can’t be found in any Dominance. This is one of the strangest things I’ve ever seen. Where in the Lord Ruler’s name are we, Sazed?”

Sazed wiped his brow with the back of his sleeve, his copper bracers glinting slightly in the sunlight. “I don’t rightly know, Master Venture. This fits the description of Pre-Ascension plants that the oldest records speak of. Narrow, tall trees with green leaves.” Sazed went on to continue talking, but something caught Vin’s eye. She turned and bent down to look at the diminutive plant hiding in the shade of the tall trees. It was thin, with an almost gracefully slender stalk, even more vibrantly green than the needles of the trees. Smaller leaves came off the sides, but what was most distinctive was the top, which had a collection of leaves that were a bright, royal blue.

 _Just like in the picture Kelsier showed me so long ago_ , she thought to herself. _The one his wife had kept. What was the thing called? A flower?_ Gently, she pulled up the small plant and put it to her nose, and inhaled. It smelled sweeter than the finest perfume she had worn while masquerading as Vallete Renoux. Faintly, however, she thought she smelled something else behind the scent. Vin’s brows furrowed slightly. What was it? It wasn’t like something was there that shouldn’t be, in fact it seemed the opposite. Something was missing, a smell she had taken for granted since birth.

Vin focused, and burned Tin. The internal physical metal enhanced the senses of the Allomancer burning it. Suddenly, the copse of trees grew much brighter, the breeze colder, the distant songbirds louder. She took a deep breath in through the nose.

 _Smoke. Ash. That’s what you’re not smelling,_ she realized with a start. The air was cold, yet, but it was also pure and clean and wonderful. How had she not realized how wonderful it felt to breathe cleanly before? With a nearly giddy smile she explained her newfound discovery to her companions, who nodded, now recognizing the differences for themselves as well.

“Unfortunately,” Elend said after a moment of thought, “that doesn’t help us narrow down where we are.” Elend sat down on a log, looking to her just as he had back in Luthadel while trying to figure out a proposal to placate the Assembly that he had created out of the ashes of the Lord Ruler’s government.

Vin’s mind began to churn as well, and she slowly turned to Sazed. “Saze, you mentioned something, about how the tree matches the description of something before the Ascension?”

Sazed nodded slightly, “Yes mistress, I believe I did. That flower that you hold is an even greater connection than that. We still have trees in the Final Empire, after all, but no living soul has ever seen a flower in the flesh.” He shook his head in wonderment.

“Well,” Vin continued, somewhat bashfully, “what if, when we killed the Lord Ruler, the world returned to the way it was before?” She smiled hopefully. That would be truly wonderful,  Kelsier’s dream for his dead wife would finally be fulfilled.

The scholarly Terrisman shook his head slightly. “I believe that to be highly unlikely, mistress. Most sources believe that the changing of the world after the Ascension was gradual, over several hundred years. Ecosystems are difficult to change so completely so quickly.”

“Then what…” Elend began from his seat upon the log, but Vin hushed him. She could hear something faintly in the distance, her tin-enhanced ears picking it up where a normal person’s wouldn’t have. Vin flared her tin, and she caught it. <Horses.> Vin burned pewter, strengthening her muscles and took off in the direction of the sound.

“Follow me, “ she called out to the other two. Grumbling, they seemed to be getting up, though they couldn’t nearly keep up with a mistborn burning pewter at a mad sprint.She followed the sound for a while, dashing between trees, crunching fallen leaves and brush underfoot. The sound of horses was soon joined with a clangerous din of rattling sheets of metal. Tentatively, she reached out and burned steel, letting her tin drop. Blue lines shot out before her, clustered together in one direction. Forward. She could still hear the horses and clattering of what had to be armored riders, without the enhanced hearing burning tin provided.They were close. Quite close.

She took a moment to catch her breath as the other two caught up. Sazed seemed to be only a little out of breath by the run, probably due to some feruchemical storage, but Elend was practically wheezing and coughing up his lungs. “We’re close to them,” she said quietly, “and I think they’re soldiers of some kind. I’ll sneak a head and scout out the group. You two stay here.” Elend nodded, gasping, waving her off as he sat heavily. She took a step towards Sazed and said in a low whisper, “Keep an eye on him, Sazed. Even if we are a thousand miles from Luthadel, he’s still the king.”

Sazed nodded, his usual sage and serious expression covering his face.   
“I understand, Mistress. I will protect him with my life.” Vin began to turn away. Then Elend spoke.

“Don’t count me out entirely, Vin. While some of us might not have had the opportunity to become decides, that doesn’t mean I’m hopeless in a fight. I rescued you from the dungeons of Kredik Shaw, didn’t I?” Elend’s good humor came through, shining in his face and ringing in his words. That was the man she loved, the honest, clever man she had met on her first mission as part of Kelsier’s insane plan to overthrow the Lord Ruler. He smiled at her, and she smiled back.

“I seem to remember your guards doing most of the work, Elend,” she replied, lifting a single eyebrow. “And anyway, you happen to be unarmed at the moment. Even if you had your dueling cane, I have more than a sneaking suspicion that these men are armed and armored.” She eyed him. “Stay.”

She turned and followed the chord of blue lines. The trees began to thin out before her, suggesting some type of clearing. She was in unfamiliar territory, about to spy on what appeared to be a group of armed horsemen, so she resumed burning tin to keep her senses sharp. The old Vin, the terrified street urchin, practically screamed at her for that. Vin ignored that part of herself, the part that had never known friendship, the part that had never known love. The suspicious, distrustful Vin had been able to survive on the streets of Luthaldel. Barely. She wouldn’t go back to that for anything.

The clearing opened up before her, and Vin moved behind the tallest nearby tree. She dug a hand into her coin pouch, produced a single boxing, and dropped it on the ground. Then she flared steel, pushing hard against the small piece of metal. Vin flew up into the air beside the tree, and lazily swung up onto a branch. Switching to iron, she pulled the coin back up after her, catching it easily in her hand and returning it to the pouch. She now had a good vantage from which to see the clearing, and what she saw was all too familiar not to chill her blood.

There were about twenty horsemen in all, arranged in a circle around a crumbling stone wall. Many of the riders had dismounted, and almost all bore weapons of some kind, swords and lances for the most part. A few wore armor. In the center were several dismounted men, two of which were untying a man in ragged and greasy black clothing from the crumbling wall. Another was unsheathing a massive, dark bladed sword. Vin was all too familiar with this scene, though in Luthadel it happened in the Fountain Square.

An execution.

Vin scanned the crowd, and quickly found an oddity. Four younger men, the oldest about her own age of nineteen, two who looked fourteen, and a small boy who couldn’t be older than eight mounted on a pony. They stood out among the soldiery they were surrounded by like silver coins among coppers. What kind of man would bring children to an execution.

 _A nobleman._ Vin could tell by searching the group who it was, if by his bearing more than his relatively simple clothes and furs. He was the one given the dark-bladed greatsword, and began to speak as he approached the old, ragged man about the be beheaded. Vin flared her tin as much as she dared, straining to hear the man’s words.

“In the name of Robert Baratheon,” the man began, most of his inflection being lost by the distance between them, “First of his name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, by the sword of Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, I do sentence you to die.” The lord, Eddard, lifted the sword high overhead, then brought it down, cleanly slicing the man’s head from his shoulders. The head rolled towards the group of boys, and the eldest of them kicked it. Vin’s blood began to boil, memories of the cruelty of noblemen flooding back to her. _A small boy in a keep courtyard, killed by a noble’s guardsman for making a scene during a ball._ Vin examined the scene once again. It was obvious that the man had been skaa, his clothes and bent back showed that much. _Who had he been? A runaway? A rebel?_

The men began to remount their horses, and the lord handed the sword to one of his men. Slowly, the men gathered together and left the clearing, leaving the headless corpse behind. Vin mulled over what she had seen. The lord had claimed that he served a “King Robert Baratheon”, and that he himself was the lord of some place called Winterfell and the “Warden of the North.” Did that mean they were in the Northern Dominance then? Vin hadn’t been able to keep track of all the other various kings that had sprung up since the demise of the Lord Ruler’s Final Empire. She determined to ask Elend and Sazed.

***

When she returned to her party, they had no answers for her. Elend told her that his father Straff was currently in control of the Northern Dominance, and that neither of them had ever heard of Winterfell or a King Robert Baratheon.

“So… what do we do?” Elend asked hesitantly. He rubbed his jaw line with a hand, his brow furrowed in concentration. “We might not be in the Final Empire anymore at all. We might even, as ludicrous as it sounds, be back in times before the Ascension. Sazed, do you know anything about any Seven Kingdoms before the Lord Ruler came to power?”

The tall terrisman shook his pierced head sadly. “I have gone over my historical metalminds a dozen times, Lord Elend, and there is nothing in them that talks about these Seven Kingdoms, nor any domain called Winterfell. Though, with the amount of knowledge that actually survived the Ascension, that might not mean anything.” He tapped the side of his head. “I have another theory, however. There was a group in the Southern Islands whose names were lost to history, that had a myth about what they called the ‘Traveling Dusts’, a trickster spirit of knowledge who was able to travel between worlds to spread knowledge and mischief, and was able to send others to different worlds. Perhaps that is what happened to us.”

Vin shrugged. “It’s as good an explanation as any.” She turned and looked out into the forest of green. It was still so awe inspiring, looking out at all the beautiful plants. But even if it was more beautiful, even if the air was more clean, the world was still too much like what she remembered from home. Nobles still killed the common people with impunity. “I say we follow the party back to this Winterfell.”

Elend looked up at her skeptically. “Vin, you watched them behead someone. Are you sure these are the kind of people you want to follow around an unfamiliar land?”

Vin’s face took on a dark and serious cast. It was the face she used in combat. “I want to know why they killed him, and I want to find where in the Lord Ruler we are. If either of those answers don’t satisfy me…” she traced a hand almost gently over the pommel of her obsidian daggers. Yes. She would learn about this new land, learn about its people, about this Eddard Stark. And if he was just another Lord Ruler, oppressing and slaughtering his people, well… she had killed God. This nobleman couldn’t be harder than that.

 

 


	2. Jon

Jon clutched the white direwolf under his cloak, trying as hard as he could to keep the small pup warm. He already felt a certain kinship with the beast, cast off and ostracized from its brothers and sister, easily distinguishable as being “of different birth”. Hells, the pup’s coloring was even reminiscent of his own surname! It was an omen from the Gods, that much was clear to his young mind. A dead stag and direwolf, killed by each other, leaving behind five direwolf pups. Omens such as this were rarely so blatant. While Bran rejoiced at the discovery of his new pet, Robb and Jon could feel their father’s sense of nervous foreboding.

                In addition to that, Jon thought he felt eyes upon him all the way from the bridge. He had felt a similar chill during the execution of the deserter from the Night’s Watch; he felt like a rabbit under a distant falcon’s gaze. That was particularly disconcerting. Jon was an accomplished swordsman in his own right, Ser Roderik told him so, as well as an able hunter, though he could never out do Theon in that regard. He was used to being the predator. Being prey was a new, and completely unwelcome feeling.

                From up ahead, he heard a horse knicker. The horsemen ahead of Robb and Jon slowed and stopped, and he heard Jory Cassel call out “Whoa! Who goes there? Announce yourselves, and quickly, for you are interrupting the personal party of Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell.”

                _What’s going on?_ Jon wondered. Robb nodded at him, and they rode around the retainers and bannermen to the head of the column. What they saw was certainly odd. Nearly as odd as direwolves south of the Wall.

                It was a pair of men, standing in the snow. They were both tall, though one nearly towered over the other, and they were some of the most strangely dressed folk Jon had ever seen. The shorter of the pair was pale of skin and sandy of hair, longish and slightly disheveled looking. He wore a long coat of an unfamiliar cut that seemed well made, and underneath that a vest and shirt of an unfamiliar material that also seemed quite well made, though they were worn with a similar air of dishevelment. Though that paled in comparison to the strangeness of the man’s companion.

                The man was tall, almost unnaturally so, and was thin and willowy as a reed switch, with light brown skin and a head shaven bald. But that was far from his strangest attribute. The man’s earlobes were stretched out and studded with dozens of small pieces of metal. He wore several rings as well as bracers made of what Jon thought was copper. His robes were as colorful as a tropical bird’s, arranged in a set of stacked “v’s” over his chest and falling down over his arms. He was, perhaps, the strangest and most exotic man Jon had ever seen.

                Jory repeated his command to the strange pair. “Who are you, and what are you doing in my lord’s domain?” Jon could now tell by the look on Jory’s face that the man was not pleased, and failing to hide his consternation at the men’s appearances. Jon didn’t blame him the least bit.

                The shorter, fairer of the two responded. “Good sir, we are but strangers to this land.” Jon heard a couple of grumbles, and distinctly heard Theon say “You have the right of that, at least.”

                The pale man’s eyes narrowed, but the darker one raised his long fingered hand, as if by way of greeting, and spoke with a strange, almost melodious accent, his words crisp and clearly pronounced. “My good men, we seem to have lost our way. Could you tell us where we might be?” Jon felt a slight bit of incredulity spring up inside him. _They didn’t know where they were? How could they not? The Wolfswood was in the heart of the  North, there was no way you could have idly just stumbled upon it_!

                Jon was about to relate as much to the travelers, but he felt a sort of calming power wash over his psyche. _But on the other hand, they’re obviously lost and in need of help. An honorable man helps those in need, doesn’t he?_ “You’re in the Wolfswood,” Jon said to the strange men, “a large forest around the castle of Winterfell, the capitol of the Kingdom of the North.” Jon felt slightly proud that he had helped these confusing lost strangers, and only later marveled at what an odd feeling it was to have.          

                “And might we meet this King of the North, then?” The tall, colorfully dressed and overly studded man asked obsequiously.

                That was when Father spoke. He used the voice of Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell, the commanding and powerful tones of one of the Realm’s most powerful and important men. “There hasn’t been a King in the North for over three hundred years. We gave up that title when the Targaryens and their dragons came.” Father rode up towards the strangers, and then dismounted his stallion. “I am Lord Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. I am a servant of His Grace, King Robert Baratheon of the Seven Kingdoms. Tell me, travelers, where do you come from?”

                The strangers turned and looked at each other. Then they turned back, and the shorter man spoke. “We don’t know exactly, at least in relation to where we are now. DO any of you have a map?” The man looked legitimately concerned, and Jon felt like it was his _duty_  to help this man.

                Father replied easily enough. “Winterfell contains a great library, along with a significant collection of cartography. As travelers you would be welcome to our bread and salt of hospitality. Our gods would accept nothing less.” The taller of the two men raised a single eyebrow at that, though Jon didn’t think anyone else had noticed. Eddard gestured for two of his men to dismount and offer their horses to the travelers. The men bowed gratefully.

                 The taller of the two asked servilely, “My lord, why are you and your party riding in the middle of the forest at this time of day? Was there a hunt recently?” The man seemed to be truly curious.

                Jon heard Theon snort at that. Father’s expression turned grim . “Of a sort. We hunted down a criminal and executed him.” Jon felt a chill spread through the group at the thought of the ragged old man Father had killed. How scared he seemed, but not by the thought of his own imminent demise.

                “What was he guilty of?” A new, and distinctly feminine voice said distantly. All of them turned and looked up into the tree. Sitting on a strong branch, a young woman of strange dress near enough to that of the metal studded man watched them. She was a slight and slender thing, not looking that much older than himself. She wore a dark grey cloak, made of strange strips of cloth bound together at the shoulders. There were straps of leather criss-crossing her chest, each containing several vials. And she wore trousers. Jon’s adolescent mind couldn’t let that part go. She had dark hair and large eyes, and was quite beautiful. She almost looked like and adult version of Arya, and Jon almost thought he heard his father’s breath catch in his throat.

                “He was a deserter,” Father answered simply. The woman didn’t seem content with that, and dropped from the branch with the lithe grace of a shadowcat.

                “And what was he a deserter from? Your plantation? Your army?” The woman seemed to have a quietly burning rage in her eyes. Suddenly, Jon had an idea of what had been watching him with a predator’s eyes all day. He hoped his father’s answer satisfied her. He didn’t want to see the result of her displeasure.

                 “The man was a deserter from the Night’s Watch, he betrayed his sworn brothers when he left his post guarding the Wall.” Father seemed to be placated by a silent voice, like the woman was dragging the words out of him. “He knew his life was forfeit before he left. As such, there was no depravity he might not have stepped to in order to evade the Law. He was a danger that had to be removed, and an example to set for those on the Wall who might have also thought of deserting.”

                The woman raised an eyebrow skeptically. “And why did you perform the execution, then? Aren’t you a lord? Don’t you have a headsman for this sort of thing?” She walked up to Eddard and stared him in the eye.

                Silently, Jon relaxed. Eddard had just explained this to Bran, and Jon felt that this strange and dangerous woman would be satisfied with his answer. This woman might not understand where she was or what was going on around her, but she seemed to have a sense of honor.

                Eddard’s voice grew strong and grim as he answered her. “It was my duty and my burden to swing the sword. As the man who gave the sentence, I have the duty to hear the sentenced’s final words and feel his head separate from his body. Otherwise, it would be dishonorable, and cheapen the lives of those who I condemn.”

                The woman seemed almost taken aback by his response, and then dropped her gaze. In a moment, the shadowcat became a small alley kitten, trying to be invisible and unobtrusive. Meanwhile, Jon noticed that both of the male strangers nodded in understanding. The shorter of the two also looked to be profoundly affected by Eddard’s words.

                The woman walked over to the pair of men, and leaned into the shorter of the two. He put an arm around her shoulders. Then he looked up at them and spoke. “I’m sorry, my lords. I forgot to introduce ourselves. I am Lord Elend Venture, and these are my companions.” He gestured to the taller, darker man, who bowed slightly. “This is Sazed, a Keeper of Terris.” Lastly, he gestured to the young woman who now had her head buried in his shoulder. “And this is Lady Vin.”

                Eddard nodded to them. “Winterfell is not far off. We will bring you there, grant you Bread and Salt, and allow you access to our library that you might find your way home.”

                Jon was silently excited. They were bringing these strangers home. He wanted to talk to them, find out all he could about them, about their lives, about their homelands. Such exotic travelers as they should have had all sorts of adventures.

 

Perhaps they could help him determine what his place in the world would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Subscribe and leave kudos, and constructive criticism is love, so feel free to comment!


	3. Sazed

Sazed

 

Sazed looked over the seventeenth map of the distressingly labeled “Known World” that the great castle of Winterfell had in its library. He rubbed his temples, comparing the various sets of maps to those stored in his metalminds. “I’m sorry, Lord Elend,” he said, tired and frustrated, “But even if we were somehow beyond the Southern Sea, there’s no way we could have crossed that much ocean and gotten more than a hundred miles inland in the amount of time we think it took.”

Elend sighed, sitting at the other end of the desk. He rubbed his eyelids with his thumb and forefinger in frustration. “So that’s it then? We’re in a completely different world?”

Sazed nodded tiredly. “That’s the only conclusion I can come to, my lord.” He breathed deeply.  Is this really worth mentioning?  He exhaled. “Also, I’ve searched my metalmind of lore and tales for any other signs or stories of travel between worlds.”

Elend leaned back in his chair, putting his arm around Vin’s shoulders and nodding to continue. So Sazed soldiered on. “Some of them are quite fanciful, like the one from the Yelines, an ancient seafaring group from the Southern Islands, who spoke of an old man, presumably a god, who sailed between the stars on a great ship. Other tales tell of gateways between dimensions, mystic portals and the like. Step through one, and you find yourself in a different world.”

Elend chuckled. “Did you accidentally stumble through a magic gateway, Vin?” he asked, nudging the young woman, who shook her head and smiled.  He’s one of the only ones who can do that to her,  Sazed noted.  He seems to truly set her at ease, perhaps even make her happy. And he does seem to love her dearly. He wished the best for them. Vin especially deserved someone in her life to love, and be loved by in return. A pang of hurt, longing, loss and more than a little jealousy struck him then at the thought, but he suppressed it as he had so often in his life.

“One of the most interesting ones involves  traveling through what the legend calls  The Shade , a realm of thoughts and dreams that connects all of the worlds. It was from here that Dusts came from in his mythology.” Sazed moved one of his hands forward on the desk, tapping a finger against the wood. “Here’s the interesting bit: in all of the tales that involve travel between worlds, a similar character to that of the Traveling Dusts is nearly always present, usually with different names or forms. A Khlenni source, one of the most important to the Keepers as it regards old Terris, states that the ancient Order of Worldbringers was founded by an unknowably wise man named Ho’yaed, who said that he came from ‘Beyond the Realm of Cognition’.”

Elend’s face took on a discerning look. “So, that’s what you spent the day really working on then, Saze. I thought it wouldn’t have taken you this long to inspect a couple of maps.”

The Terrisman nodded. “As you say. Most of these pieces I found in my metalminds were  highly obscure, and I wanted to at least present a somewhat credible alternate hypothesis on the matter.”

Vin’s brows furrowed. “So what? This Dusts, this Ho’yaed, dragged us from the Final Empire to this world? Why? I mean, it seems nice here and all, what with the green plants and clean air, but what’s going on at home? What happened to Luthadell after we left? Did one of the other kings seize it and take it over?” An edge of worry and fear began to creep into her voice. They all knew what that would mean for the rest of the crew, not to mention the skaa.

Sazed sighed again. “Truly, we have no way of knowing.” That answer consoled her not at all. “What we need to figure out now is what to tell Lord Stark. Do we tell the truth? Or do we trust that we can lie convincingly enough to persuade him that we’re from somewhere in this world?”

Vin nodded. “I say we tell the truth. He seems like an honest, honorable man.” 

This caused Elend to raise an eyebrow. “Are you sure you want to reveal that we’re essentially aliens to this person with the authority to have us killed, based on a gut-instinct?” He rubbed his jaw as he looked at her.

She merely smiled. “I had the same feeling about you when we first met.” She then nuzzled into his shoulder, curling up into him. “Unless you think my instincts there were wrong.”

Elend’s face turned from bemused disbelief to sudden consternation. Sazed smiled at his reaction.  Oh, he’s in trouble now. Can’t go against her like that, as that would throw their entire relationship into question. Elend began stammering in response.

“Ahem. Um, well then, I guess we have no choice but to throw ourselves on the mercies of this Eddard Stark.” He looked like he was holding his breath, awaiting her response. Sazed could hear his grit teeth from across the desk. He wanted to laugh, but that would’ve been impolite. “In any case, we don’t know enough about this place to construct a proper murmured against his chest. “Well, I should probably be there to help Soothe him so that he’s more accepting.” Elend breathed a sigh of relief so audible that Sazed couldn’t help but chuckle.

***

The meeting with Eddard went better than expected, due in no small part to Vin’s allomancy. She had been soothing and rioting his various emotions to make him as amenable as possible to their situation. After hearing their statement about where they were truly from and what they supposed had brought them here, Eddard had merely sighed and laid his head in his hands, muttering something like “The Gods are truly strange and fickle beings.”

That had intrigued Sazed to no end. He had heard various men and women around Winterfell gathered and studied in his time as a Keeper, only two of them had been actively practiced; one of them had been barely in its infancy, the other a thousand years old and had worked to stifle and destroy other faiths. So the concept of long-practiced religions living outside of the Lord Ruler’s shadow, without the stain of a millenium of persecution, made him feel almost positively giddy.  I’ll have to talk to him later, Sazed thought,  and ask him about his gods.

The cold-eyed lord had been silent for several moments, considering what they had said. After a long moment, he spoke. “Whatever the truth of the matter is, we’ll have to disguise it from others. The truth of this will frighten many, and raise far too many questions.” Eddard inspected the map. “So, instead, we will say that you are merely foreigners.” He stabbed a finger onto the eastern-most part of the map. “If we merely say that you are from the Shadowlands beyond Ashaii or even one of the Free Cities, your lack of understanding of our land and customs will go unnoticed, as well as your,” he looked them over, “exotic nature.”

Sazed and Vin had thanked him for that. They had conferred with Elend, and decided that that was the best course of action in any case. Over the course of the next several days, they had integrated themselves somewhat into the lives of the folk of Winterfell. Vin had made friends with several of the Stark children, particularly Lord Eddard’s youngest daughter Arya and second youngest son Bran, while the elder son Jon seemed to follow Vin silently, watching but rarely participating in their games or conversations. Sazed thought the young man reminded him somewhat of Master Lestibournes in that regard.

Elend, on the other hand, had sequestered himself in Winterfell’s library, voraciously devouring every scrap of text possible on the workings of these “Seven Kingdoms”, from history to folk lore, many of it written by scholars long dead. According to the old man who Eddard had called “Maester Luwin”, the library contained some of the oldest texts in existence.

Tomes and scrolls were all well and good, but why read from men long dead when there were  live subjects to learn from? Sazed had decided to go to the source.

The day after explaining the situation of their origin to Lord Stark, Sazed had followed the grim-faced man into the area of the castle known as the “Godswood”. A miniature grove of wild pines and thick undergrowth, it all centered around one massive broadleaf tree that sat before a deep, dark pool. This tree, of all the strange and wonderful foliage Sazed had seen since coming to this new world, was the  strangest he had ever come across. It even slightly unnerved him. The tree was much wider than the others around it, and had bark as pale and milky white as long bleached bone. Its leaves were as large as one of his hands, and held a deep red color reminiscent of blood. But the strangest part of all was the face carved in its trunk, with eyes that seemed to follow him and wept blood red sap.

Lord Eddard sat before the terrible tree when Sazed came upon him. His head was stooped as if he were nodding off. “My lord,” he said softly, causing the Lord of Winterfell’s head to rise, “I hope that I am not disturbing you.”

The man’s graying visage turned and gazed at him with eyes the color of ice, eyes that somewhat resembled those of the face carved into the tree. “Yes, what is it?”

“Well my lord,” Sazed paused, considering how to move forward, “I had hoped to ask you something.” He mulled over his questions in his mind, deciding how best to phrase them to this stranger who had taken him in. “I had heard mention around the castle of people referring to your gods. I had thought to ask you of them.”

Lord Stark’s visage softened somewhat. “What is your interest in my faith?” he asked, hints of genuine curiosity creeping into his voice.

Sazed inclined his head to him in a respectful gesture. “Where I came from, I was both a servant, a Steward, and a scholar. My people held vast stores of ancient knowledge and lost wisdom. My personal specialty was the topic of religion. The things that men believe fascinate me.”

Nodding in understanding, Lord Stark replied with another question of his own. “You were like a maester, then?”

Sazed had interacted with Luwin, the stooping, gray robed man who wore a long chain around his throat, of many different metals. He had asked him about that, and the elderly man had responded that each link represented mastery of a different subject. Sazed was reasonably sure that there wasn’t any Feruchemy involved, but the symbolism was similar.

“Something like that, yes, though the chains my people wore were invisible, though no less real.” Lord Stark seemed surprised by that, though he didn’t say anything. “The symbols of my learning are these,” he said, gesturing to his bracers and earrings.

“You were a slave?” Eddard said, voice sounding somewhat shocked. Sazed hadn’t done nearly half as much cultural research as Elend had, but he knew that slavery was forbidden in the Seven Kingdoms. He thought over what his life had been like before joining the Keepers and Kelsier’s cause. Yes, it could definitely be described as slavery. He hadn’t performed the back breaking labor of a skaa plantation worker, but his entire life had been ordered by the dictates of the Steel Ministry, forced to wait on the whims of nobles. His only rebellion was becoming a Keeper, at least before he helped pull the Final Empire down.

“My masters preferred the term steward, my lord, but in essence: yes. I was a slave.” A smile flickered across his face. “But no longer. My slavery ended when I met my last master, a man named Kelsier. It was through him that I met Lady Vin, and through her Lord Elend.” He waved his hand before his face. “But that is neither here nor there, and I fear we have strayed from the subject I had wished to discuss. I wish to learn more of your religion, my Lord of Stark.”

Lord Eddard’s ice colored eyes seemed to mull over the question, and then responded with one of his own. “What do you wish to know?”

Sazed sat down before the seated lord. “Explain it to me as you would to your sons, or to a questioning foreigner who knows literally nothing about it.” The bearded man nodded.

“Well, know first that there is a reason my faith is called the faith of the Old Gods. It was practiced long before men even came to Westeros.” When Sazed questioned this, Eddard taught him of the Children of the Forest, of the coming of the First Men, the war between them culminating in an alliance and friendship against the forces of the Others. Sazed was fascinated.

Mentally taking notes, he whispered to himself,  The mythology is certainly quite interesting. They believe that their faith was practiced by supernatural beings long before they themselves did, but oddly enough these “Children of the Forest” are not worshiped themselves as either divinities themselves or intercessors between the gods and men. In addition to that, they possess the common trait of enemies in the form of supernatural evils, representing the forces of winter. They believe that with the help of the Children, they drove their enemies, these Others, into the far north, and built a massive wall to keep them out.

“But,” Eddard said, “it couldn’t last. After our great victory, the Andals came over the sea, steel in hand, and drove out all of my people in the name of their own gods, slaughtering the Children of the Forest and burning the weirwoods. The only real worshipers of the Old Gods can be found here, in the North.” Sazed filed that away for later use. It seemed to be something that would be important to remember.

“But what exactly is your theology? I know the history of your faith, but what do you actually believe in? What are the Old Gods?” Sazed said, making sure his mixture of excitement and impatience didn’t find their way into his voice.

Lord Eddard rubbed a gloved hand over his bearded jawline. “The gods are nameless and without number. They are the spirits the Children found in the world around them, the gods of the trees and the rivers and the rocks. They are all around us, surrounding us and enveloping us.” He gestured behind himself to the odd white tree. “The Weirwoods are the bridge between gods and men. They are the faces of the gods, where a  man may go to ask questions of what he must do, and, if he is quiet and contemplative, receive answers.” He coughed. “You may hear the answers in your mind, in your own voice, or whispered upon the breeze through the crimson leaves. But only if you truly seek, and are willing to ponder upon your questions to the abandonment of all else.”

Sazed translated his words into the the jargon of a theologian for his notes.  The Faith of the Old Gods is an animistic religion, with an uncountable number of nature gods and spirits. To commune with the gods, a man goes and sits before the heart tree of a godswood, asking the symbolic face of the gods carved in the weirwood for answers to their questions and desires, as well as guidance. The answers are received via meditation on the questions while within the grove.

It was certainly a simple, yet somehow beautifully elegant belief system. To Sazed, it made perfect sense. If you lived in a world and colorful and beauteous as this one, wouldn’t you apply divine attributes to the beautiful nature surrounding you? Continuing on, he noted  There seems to be little, if any, personification of these gods. They are viewed collectively, as a body, and as they have no names no individual gods are singled out for specific worship. It is almost as if they pray to the world itself, and the world itself is what answers them.

It fascinated Sazed to no end. “And do you have any tenants? Beliefs, rules, dictates that govern the way a follower of the Old Gods should act?”

Lord Stark paused for a moment, then shook his head. “Nay, nothing as specific as that. The Seven are the ones with all the rules and dogmas.” He gestured to the direwolf broach holding together his cloak. “I simply comport myself honorably, keeping all oaths with other men and living a life without deceit, for lies are abstractions and creations of men and have no place in the natural order of the world. Like the wolf that graces my banners, I must be loyal, both to my lord and to my pack, my family. My house’s words are a reminder. ‘Winter is Coming.’ It is important to be prepared for the devastation winter brings, as well as being symbolic of the constant vigilance a follower of the Old Gods must have. It is our ancient responsibility to guard against the Others, now that the Children are gone. Though nowadays, most don’t consider the Others to even have existed, or that if they did, they went extinct long ago.”

Sazed nodded, considering. The pair of men talked for another hour or more, discussing the finer points of what it meant to be a Northerner, a First Man, and a follower of the Old Way. Afterwards, Sazed opened a dialogue with the Maester, Luwin, and discussed many of the differences between the workings of various plants and animals in their different lands. Luwin, thinking that he was from the Shadowlands Beyond Ashaii, was fascinated to learn about the ashfalls, the brown plants, and most of all, the Mist. They spent the better part of three days discussing mistwraiths, Maester Luwin nearly suffering an aneurysm trying to discern how such a creature could possibly survive, not to mention simply exist. But Luwin never doubted that Sazed spoke the truth, never called him a liar. He had showed him the silvery link of Valyrian steel on his chain, and explained what it meant. 

“There is much that we do not know,” the gray man said, almost conspiratorially. “The Higher Mysteries are part of that, the things that cannot be explained by the science of man.”

Sazed had nodded at that. “My order, the Keepers, had a saying: ‘There is more knowledge that has been lost than we can ever know.’” Of course, that had originally been referring to the inability of the Keepers to find any hints of their own religion, but it was true in concept as much as it was in specificity. The pair of them had exchanged knowing glances and continued on in their discussion.

Sazed respected the elderly Maester. For a man without copperminds, he held an immpresively broad and deep body of knowledge inside that graying head of his. He was quite an intelligent person, and it was nice to be able to discuss things with someone who was on his own level for once, rather than explain as he so often did with Lady Vin.

After a week of settling into life in Winterfell, a raven came from the south that rocked the comfortable haven that was the castle. A man was dead, and the king was coming north to visit his old and long estranged friend Eddard. All of the newcomers were interested to see what this future would bring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's the first real interaction between Westerosi and Scadrians! Make sure to tell me what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you liked it and want to read more, press those relevant buttons that I won't patronize you by actually listing. 
> 
> Feel free to comment! Suggestions are welcome, and constructive criticism is love!


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